


a matter of the heart

by peachsneakers



Series: flower petals [3]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Aromantic Morality | Patton Sanders, Background Anaroceit, Background Intrulogical - Freeform, Blood, Gen, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Morality | Patton Sanders, Morality | Patton Sanders Angst, Morality | Patton Sanders is a Good Friend, Platonic DRLAMP - Freeform, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:14:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25442980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachsneakers/pseuds/peachsneakers
Summary: He doesn't understand. He's not in love with anyone, unrequited or otherwise.So why is he coughing up flower petals?
Relationships: DRLAMP, Morality | Patton Sanders & Everyone
Series: flower petals [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1842829
Comments: 174
Kudos: 329





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> idk what i'm doing but this idea won't leave my head
> 
> lyrics are from paramore "fake happy"

_I love making you believe  
What you get is what you see _

Patton coughs, staring at the varicolored petals already crumpled in his hand. A yellow one lazily seesaws down, nestling with its bloodstained fellows. Yellow, green, blue, purple, and red- the world's most dysfunctional rainbow, clutched in one bloodied hand.

It doesn't make _sense_. Maybe Logan could pry some meaning from Patton's head, but as it stands, he's sure lost. He's not in love with _anyone_ , as far as he can tell. He's aromantic, and none of the others so much as stir any quiescent loving urges _that_ way. He had contemplated whether it meant he was somehow in love with Thomas, but not even that seems a possibility. Of course he loves Thomas, but like _that_? No, thank you.

He sighs. He won't figure it out standing here, and if he stands here too long, lost in the dozy nostalgia of his room, someone might come to check on him, and he couldn't bear it if someone caught him out like this.

If it wasn't for Thomas's fanfiction habits, he wouldn't even know what this is. When he realized he must have hanahaki disease, he nearly laughed in disbelief. It doesn't seem possible. 

The copper-scented flower petals curled in his palm say otherwise.

Patton sighs again and tips them all into the bottom drawer of his nightstand, leaving them to rot with the rest. He can't bear to actually throw them away. It doesn't feel right. (Does any of this feel right?) Besides, if he throws them away, someone might see.

He's not sure who would be worse. Virgil and Roman are already in a relationship, and he's nearly positive that Janus is tiptoeing around their orbit, scared to be drawn in and too afraid to notice their outstretched hands. Remus would either laugh or want to know why, and Patton has no answers. Likewise, Logan would want the kind of answers that Patton just can't give. Anyone else would think that he's lying when he says he has no unrequited love, that he's trying to protect them and their feelings.

A knock rattles his door and he stiffens, hastily shoving the bottom drawer shut and wiping off his hands and mouth with a kleenex. The kleenex goes in his pants pocket, and he's at the door within moments, a cheery smile on his face.

"Virgil!" He says brightly. His throat itches for one heart-stopping moment. "What brings you here?"

"You uh, were gonna bake cookies with me and Roman?" Virgil offers, slump-shouldered and hunched. "It- it's no big deal if you're busy or you don't want to, I can go-"

"No, I remember!" Patton says, inwardly cursing at himself. _You know how Virgil gets! How could you forget? He's Anxiety!_ "Lead the way, Virge! I'd love to."

"Oh- okay," Virgil says. "Roman will be happy, he keeps talking about how he's going to decimate you in cookie decoration and take your crown." He rolls his eyes, but a fond smile plays about his lips.

"I'd like to see him try," Patton says playfully, walking toward the kitchen at Virgil's side. The bloodied kleenex in his pocket burns his leg with its furtive presence. "He'll have to bring his bake game if he thinks he can beat me!"

"He's been practicing," Virgil says with a laugh. Now that the question of Patton coming is sorted, his shoulders have loosened, faint lines of worry erased from his features. "On the past three dates in the Imagination, he's just stopped whatever we were doing, declared a cookie war, and taken me to the village to practice baking."

"A worthy opponent then!" Patton proclaims.

"I'm glad that you think so!" Roman blusters, coming out of the kitchen and pressing a soft kiss to Virgil's blushing cheek. "For a better opponent in the mind palace, you shall not have!" Patton grabs his apron from a drawer, tying it around his waist.

"We'll just have to see about that!" He challenges, and laughs.


	2. Chapter 2

_And I bet everybody here  
Is just as insincere _

It starts after the wedding fiasco. At first, Patton thinks maybe it has something to do with the time he spent as an enormous frog. He _has_ had some odd side effects, after all. Sometimes he ribbits instead of talks, and he's had an inordinate fondness for long, steamy baths. So when the first tickle in his throat erupts and the first delicate yellow bloom floats down to the surface of his bath water, bobbing in the bubbles, he thinks it has something to do with _that_. Sure, he's never coughed up flowers before. And he doesn't think that frogs do it, either. But he can't think what else it _could_ be.

It's not like he can ask. Everyone's heard him ribbit (and most have gently ribbed him for it). No one knows about his new proclivity for baths. Wouldn't they just laugh at him if they found out he coughed up a flower petal? It's just one, after all. He's not sure what kind of flower it is, not from one petal, but he thinks maybe it's a rose petal. It's oddly velvety, for something that's come out of his throat. He doesn't know of any particular connection between frogs and roses, but hey, he's not the smart one. That's Logan.

But it doesn't end there. The tickle in his throat happens more and more, and he finds himself excusing himself from the table more and more, hiding a cough in his elbow or muffling it in a kleenex, only to discover yet another flower petal. And they don't stop with yellow roses, no. Purple, dark blue, red, and green soon join them, but what they _mean_ , he hasn't the foggiest. He finally has enough one particularly frustrating evening and searches for it on the laptop he borrowed from Logan, careful to clear his search history. He's glad for it when the explanation pops up on his screen, making his mouth sag open and his eyes widen in surprise.

_Hanahaki disease,_ it reads. Unrequited love. The more Patton skims, the more confused he is. He _knows_ he's not in love with anyone, much less the number of people the color of the petals suggests! He certainly admires them. He admires Roman's passion, his creativity. He admires Logan's curiosity and thirst for knowledge (and regrets making fun of him for misusing the word 'infinitesimal', he just doesn't know how to apologize properly, not when it's been so long). He admires the way Virgil perseveres, the way he works through his anxiety to work with them and benefit Thomas. Now that the wedding is over, he admires Janus's strength of conviction, the way he is so ride or die for Thomas, it's almost scary. He even admires, in a reluctant way, Remus's openness and dedication to his own brand of creativity.

He admires them all, but he's not in _love_ with them, and he doesn't know how to persuade his stubborn lungs of that fact.

And then he hears Janus coughing behind a locked door, and all thoughts of his own predicament fly from his head. He _knows_ that cough, knows it intimately, and dread sinks its claws into his stomach as he lightly raps at the door.

"Janus?" He calls, worry clogging his throat. "Are you all right? I heard coughing... Are you sick?" He waits, heart fluttering, for the answer.

"Perfectly fine, Patton," Janus drawls. "Simply something in my throat." His shame feels like a sickly film coating Patton's teeth as he turns from the door, a frown marring his face. 

"Okay," Patton finally says, reluctantly. "Well, feel free to come join us for movie night, if you want! We're watching _Frozen_."

"I'm afraid I'll have to take a rain check," Janus says through the door. "Have fun, though."

Patton's footsteps drag as he heads back down the hallway, toward the living room. Something is wrong with Janus, or his name isn't Patton Morality Sanders. But how to prove it? Is it even his business to prove it? 

"Still a no," Patton says, coming back to the living room and shaking his head. "I'm worried about him, he sounded awful. Do you think he's sick?"  
  
"It's a possibility," Logan acknowledges, with a thoughtful hum. "Perhaps a cold?" Virgil frowns, curling up tighter against Roman's side.  
  
"Maybe you should make your famous chicken noodle soup tomorrow, Pat," Roman suggests. "No one can turn that down."  
  
"Well," Patton frowns himself, then brightens a little. "I suppose I could try. Maybe he'll like it?"  
  
"Add a live mouse," Remus suggests, with a cackle as he appears. Patton recoils in disgust, before straightening himself back out, trying to look unbothered. He has a sinking feeling it doesn't work.

"While Janus is part-snake, we have no information suggesting that a live mouse would be beneficial or even possible for him to eat," Logan says, a slight frown touching his face. "Unless you have contradicting information, Remus?" Remus shrugs.  
  
"Nah," he says. "But it would have been funny!" He giggles, wiping a few stray tears from his eyes. Virgil sighs, loud enough to draw Patton's attention.  
  
"No live mice in Janus's soup," he says. "You know he wouldn't like that, Remus."  
  
"Spoilsport," Remus grumbles. "What movie are you gonna watch?"  
  
" _Frozen_ ," Patton answers. Remus heaves a gusty, prolonged sigh.  
  
"Booooooring," he singsongs. "Why not watch something with more pizzazz?"  
  
"Because pizzazz to you is someone getting their spine ripped out," Virgil says. Patton looks vaguely green at the thought. He hopes no one decides more pizzazz is on the menu. He appreciates Remus, but watching some of his suggestions has made Patton cry, throw up, and/or faint before. It's embarrassing.  
  
"That's what makes it fun!" Remus argues. "It's no fun until someone screams!"  
  
"We're watching _Frozen_ , Remus," Roman says tiredly. Remus pouts as he lowers himself to the floor, sprawling out and resting his head against the couch. Patton almost envies his freedom of movement.  
  
"Fiiiiiine," he says, drawing out the word almost obnoxiously long.

As the movie plays, Patton finds his attention straying down the hall once more, where the missing member of their party lay. _I'm sure I know that cough,_ he thinks fretfully. As he worries, his throat itches. He frowns, then jumps up, mumbling something about snacks. He disappears into the kitchen, muffling his cough in the sleeve of his cardigan. A single yellow flower petal slips out, tinged with blood at the edges. He shoves it into his pocket, grabbing a bowl of M&Ms and returning to the living room.

It doesn't look like anyone even noticed he was gone.

He's not sure how he feels about that.


	3. Chapter 3

_I been doing a good job of_ _makin' 'em_ _think_  
 _I'm quite alright, but I hope I don't blink_

Janus does have hanahaki disease.

Or rather, he _did_. And Patton is the last to know, venturing out of his room to see Janus, Roman, and Virgil cuddled together on the couch, bloody flowers heaped on the floor, while Remus taunts them.

"I can't even make myself care that you're being so annoying, Remus," Roman says loftily, one hand carding through Janus's hat hair. "Not when we have acknowledged our love together!"

"Oh, you're no fun," Remus says, and cackles. Patton retreats before anyone else can see him, his heart beating too loud in his ears. The urge to cough is nearly overwhelming. When he makes it past the safety of his own door, he sinks to his knees, muffling his cough in the crook of his elbow. It _hurts_ , more than it ever has before, and he's not surprised when he lifts his head to see a multi-colored tangle of flower petals, in purple and yellow and red.

_So that's a thing._ He's not sure how he feels about it. Oh, he's happy for Janus. He's happy for Roman and Virgil, too. He just doesn't know how to feel about the fact he was _right_. Janus _did_ have hanahaki disease. There's no other explanation for the bloodstained flowers that _he_ can think of.

He wipes his mouth with a fresh kleenex, wincing as red drops bloom across the fluffy expanse of white. He can taste it, feel it smeared across his teeth, and it makes him feel sick, in a way the flowers growing in his lungs can't touch.

_They don't care about you,_ his mind whispers to him. He forces it away. It's not true. He knows it's not. Doesn't he?

He bakes with Roman and Virgil. He's won each baking competition so far, but Roman came awfully close last time. If Roman wins, will he grow tired of their little contest? He gave Virgil a stuffed bat the other day, one he found buried in a heap of stuffed animals, because he thought Virgil might appreciate having something to hold when he's particularly anxious and has nothing else around. What if he thinks Patton is just being childish?

He doesn't even know where to begin with Logan. He makes sure the coffee pot is full and that they never run out of Logan's favorite flavor of Crofters. He even pays attention to which flavor, because his favorite rotates on a regular basis, and it wouldn't do to have a surplus of raspberry when it's strawberry on the menu. But he made fun of Logan. And he _knows_ Logan sees him as childish. He still remembers the sting when Logan murmured that maybe Deceit wasn't so bad. He knows what Logan meant. Deceit was preferable to having _him_ around.

And speaking of Janus, look at all the mistakes he's made with him! His rigid morality, his poor decision making... There's only so many ways a person can apologize and Patton thinks at this point, he's tried them all. He doesn't think Janus _hates_ him, but he doubts he actually likes him. Why should he? 

And Remus... He doesn't know what to make of Remus. He can't decide if Remus despises him or is just indifferent to his existence. Both are equally painful, in different ways. He's responsible for Remus's existence. It's his fault Creativity split. He was a child, but that doesn't mean it's suddenly okay. It's not like he can go up to Roman and Remus and go, "oops, my bad!"

Instead, he straightens, dropping the fresh petals in a drawer and tossing the kleenex in the garbage can, clean side up. He re-enters the living room, making his presence obvious this time.

"Are congratulations in order?" He asks with a bright smile. Janus looks up, a dreamy smile on his lips.

"Yes," he hisses, content. "I would say so." He bestows an admiring look on the two sides flanking him. Patton tactfully doesn't mention the bloodied flowers on the floor.

"Congrats!" He beams, clasping his hands in front of him. "I'm so happy for you all. A celebration is in order!"

"Small one, Pat," Virgil mumbles. "I know you like to get carried away..."

"Small!" Patton promises, ignoring the stabbing feeling in his heart at Virgil's words. "I'll just go ahead and make a cake, okay? What kind would you like?"

"Chocolate?" Janus asks. Patton grins.

"Chocolate, it is!" He proclaims. "The best chocolate cake you've ever had!"

"They always are," Roman murmurs, as Patton exuberantly skids into the kitchen. As soon as he's alone, his shoulders slump.

_I have no time for this,_ he thinks, frustrated.

The tickle in his throat disagrees.


	4. Chapter 4

_If I smile with my teeth  
I think I believe me_

Patton's not stupid. He knows something's up, when Remus is late for dinner and Logan won't stop staring at him, giving him side glances when he thinks Patton isn't looking.

"Is something wrong?" Patton asks, his heart fluttering in his chest. He doesn't _think_ he's done anything wrong lately, but he's been wrong about that before, now hasn't he.

"No," Logan assures him, but his tone is clipped, his eyes are stormy, and Patton doesn't believe him for one second. He opens his mouth, ready to push more, when Remus comes in, flopping in his chair like a dead thing. He hopes Remus likes the peace offering of deodorant at his plate. It's some flowery scent, not one of Remus's usual choices, but he couldn't bring himself to try to summon _that_. He's not even sure he _can_.

"Would you like some lasagna, Remus?" Patton asks.

"Sure," Remus croaks. He sounds like he's getting sick, Patton frets as he gives him a generous portion of lasagna. Can sides even _get_ sick? With regular illnesses, anyway?

"Remus, are you all right?" Logan asks.

"Peachy!" Remus chirps. "Like butts!" Roman scrunches his nose in distaste while Patton struggles to hide his smile.

Horror flashes across Remus's face, so fast Patton almost misses it.

Then he bends over double, coughing so hard blood splatters his clenched fist, and understanding blooms in Patton's chest, bitter and aching.

"Remus?" Janus asks. His voice is so gentle, it nearly brings tears to Patton's eyes. "Do you- Is it-"

"Yes," Remus admits, the word hanging like a death knell in the too-still air. Patton's mouth sags open. "I'm sorry-"

"You have nothing to apologize for," Janus reassures him. 

"Are you going to tell him?" Logan asks. Patton frowns. He's heard the story of Janus's confession from the trio, and he's not sure he approves of Logan's...interference. Sure, it worked out happily for the three of them, but now-

Wait-

"I can't," Remus whispers.

"It's okay," Patton says. He's not sure who he's trying to reassure, Remus or himself. "I'm sure that no matter who it is, they'll understand." _But please don't let it be me,_ he silently prays. He has no idea how to let Remus down gently if it _is_ and won't the others think he's a heartless monster if _that's_ how he confesses he's aromantic?

Then he sees the look Remus gives Logan, just a sideways glance that is more wince than gaze, and understanding blossoms.

"Remus?" Patton asks. "Do you want to tell us something?"

"It's Pat-" Logan starts to say, before Remus interrupts him.

"It's Logan," Remus blurts out, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

"Remus-" Logan begins, but Remus bolts, vanishing before Patton can so much as shut his mouth.

"Logan," Patton says softly.

"I don't understand," Logan says, frowning. He looks utterly confused. "He can't be telling the truth- I _saw_ the flowers, they-"

"Are you sure?" Virgil asks. "Absolutely positive?"

"Well, I suppose I can't be _completely_ certain," Logan says hesitantly. "But I could have sworn-"

"It's okay to be wrong," Patton says gently. "I think I should go talk to him."

"I want to, too," Logan says at once. His face is very pale. "I- I want to know. The truth, I mean."

The walk down to Remus's room is a quiet one. Patton isn't sure what to do if he's not in his room. Fetch Roman, perhaps? He doesn't fancy investigating the Imagination by himself. 

"I'll talk to him first," Patton says as they near the door. "If that's okay?"

"Of course," Logan says. He looks dazed. Patton raps on the door, then gently pushes it open, when no protest comes from inside. He has to squint, but sure enough, Remus is there, crumpled against the bed and looking _miserable_.

"Can I come in?" Patton asks. Remus nods. He settles next to Remus on the floor, acutely aware of Logan's presence, just outside the door.

"So," he says. "Can you explain why Logan's convinced that it's me you're in love with?" His heart pounds as he waits for the answer. Remus sniffs, wiping at his eyes.

"He saw me cough up flowers," Remus croaks. "He uh- he saw the blue and misunderstood, I guess." Patton nods in understanding, a sad smile crossing his face. Oh, he can just picture it in his mind's eye. 

"Logan's pretty easy to love, isn't he," he comments. Remus looks askance at him, making him laugh. "I'm not in love with him," Patton assures him. "I just- well, he's a very dear friend." _Does he feel the same?_ "Who can be very stubborn sometimes." He sighs. "He thinks you didn't want to tell the truth."

"I did," Remus blurts out. "It's him, I _know_ it's him, I-" Patton holds one hand up, stemming the waterfall of words.

"I know," Patton says softly. "But apparently Logan doesn't." Remus clears his throat, staring down at his lap. He looks oddly crumpled.

"You know," Patton continues, leaning his head against the bed. "I don't think it's as unrequited as you think it is." Remus jerks in surprise, looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes. Patton smiles. "It's true. I think you two should talk."

"He won't want to talk to me," Remus protests. "He-"

"Then why did he follow me down here?" Patton points out. Remus stares at the door.

"He did?" Remus whispers. Patton nods.

"He's very anxious to talk to you, I think," Patton says. "And I think it's more than time you two actually _talk_." He ignores the hypocrisy as he speaks, his throat burning.

"Thanks," Remus says. His voice is wobbly. Patton's smile widens, just a little.

"You're welcome," he says. He levers himself to his feet and opens the door. Logan stands there, stiff. His eyes are full of distress.

"I'll see you two later," Patton says, stepping past Logan. As he walks away, he can hear Logan speak. _Good_ , he thinks, relieved. His throat itches, and he winces. He really should go update the others-

The tickle in his throat decides him and he ducks into the bathroom, muffling his cough into the crook of his elbow. Flower petals come up, flush with blood. He is unsurprised to discover blue and green, prettily nestled together.

"Fuck," he says aloud, just loud enough for his own ears. He stuffs the flower petals in his pocket, scrubbing himself off with some tissue and flushing it. When he looks in the mirror, he is pale and puffy-eyed, but otherwise normal. He has a feeling it's as good as he's going to get.

"They're talking," he tells the others, walking back into the kitchen. "Remus told the truth."

"Thought so," Janus murmurs. His eyes narrow when he looks at Patton. "Patton, are you all right? You look..." He pauses, scouting for the right word. "Peaky," he settles on.

"Oh, I'm just a little tired, that's all," Patton cheerfully lies. Too late, he remembers Janus can sense lies, and internally winces. _It's not entirely a lie,_ he comforts himself. He _is_ tired. 

He just has a feeling that isn't what Janus is picking up on.

"I think I'll go lie down," he hastily continues. "I'm sorry for not washing up-"

"Oh, don't worry about that," Roman assures him. "Virgil would be delighted to do that in your stead."

"Hey!' Virgil protests, half-laughing. "I believe you mean _you_ would be delighted-"

"I'll make sure they're done," Janus promises, over the sound of the other two bickering. He pauses, giving Patton a thoughtful stare. "And Patton?"

"Yes?" Patton asks, fidgeting with his cardigan.

"You're a terrible liar."


	5. Chapter 5

_Oh please don't ask me how I've been  
Don't make me play pretend _

Patton goes hot and cold all over as he hurries to his room, leaving Janus's suspicions behind. The urge to cough is overwhelming and when he finally makes it to the dubious sanctuary of his room, he shuts the door and sinks to the carpet, lungs spasming as he coughs and coughs and coughs into his elbow, blood speckling his lips and filling his mouth with the taste of metal. Blood-soaked flower petals cluster on his skin, a jumbled rainbow. There's so much blood, more than usual, and Patton feels lightheaded as he forces himself to rise, forces himself to the drawer to empty the new petals in with their companions. They flutter down in a soggy clump and he watches their journey, eyes dazed and uncomprehending.

Janus suspects. Janus _knows_. He knows something is wrong. It's not fair, not after Patton's spent so long trying to uphold his pretense. His shoulders sag, bowed under the weight of it.

There is a knock at his door. Patton stiffens, scrubbing away the spots of blood on his arm and hastily tossing the scrunched kleenex into his drawer.

"Who is it?" He calls, trying to buy himself more time.

"Janus," comes the quiet answer. He knew it would be.

"I was just about to take a nap," he says, pulling the door open and pasting a shaky smile on his face.

"This won't take long," Janus assures him. The words fill his stomach with lead.

"All right," Patton says, taking a deep breath. "What's up, Janus?"

"What's wrong?" Janus asks bluntly. Patton swallows hard. He more than half expected it, but the question still feels like a physical blow to the solar plexus. His throat itches.

"I'm tired," he prevaricates. 

"You've been off for a while," Janus says, frowning. "I'm not stupid, Patton, please don't treat me as such."

"It's- Um-" He stalls for time, eyes flicking around his room. He pales when his gaze stutters against the drawer full of damning flower petals. The _half-open_ drawer.

Janus's eyes follow his, comprehension lighting his snake eye. Before Patton can stop him, he's striding across the room and pulling open the drawer. Patton's face flushes in shame as he closes the door. He doesn't want any of the others to see this. That would be more than he can stand right now.

"Patton?" Janus whispers, staring at the evidence. "What's all this?"

"I don't know," he admits. "I- I know what it looks like-"

"You mean, that you're in love with everyone?" Janus asks, arching an eyebrow. Patton winces.

"Right," he says. "That. I'm _not_ , though. I- I can't be. I'm-" He pauses. His heart feels like it might tear through his shirt. "I'm aromantic," he finishes, words tripping over each other. Janus's eyes soften.

"Patton, you know platonic love exists, too, right?"

"Of course I know!" He blusters. "Why wouldn't I- Oh."

"So the real question is," Janus continues lightly, "why exactly you think we don't like you."

"I-" He stammers. "I don't-" But is that true? Is that _really_ true? His conscience pricks him. Hasn't he been thinking all along how all everyone does is tolerate him, and that's on a good day? How everyone must think he's so childish and weak and annoying and-

Janus's gloved fingers come up, gently smoothing away the tears Patton didn't know were there.

"Of course we like you," Janus murmurs. " _I_ like you."

"But-" Patton blubbers, sniffing loudly. "I treated you so _bad_ and I-"

"Have made up for it," Janus finishes for him. "You've made up for it, Patton. I'm not angry at you anymore. I haven't been for a while. Especially since the wedding." Patton smiles weakly.

"That's when this started," he confesses. Janus's eyes widen.

"What?!" He squeaks. It would be funny, if the situation wasn't so serious. "How- so _long_ -"

"Yeah," Patton says, with a sigh. "I- at first I thought it was related to being a frog, but then I researched it. And then _you_ got it, but I didn't know how to talk to you about it, because I didn't know how to explain how _I_ knew what it was, and by the time I could-"

"I'd already confessed?" Janus guesses. Patton nods, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

"Yeah," he whispers. His throat aches.

"God, Patton," Janus says. "May I- may I hug you?" Patton nods shy assent, and nearly melts into Janus's arms as Janus pulls him close, arms firmly around his back. It feels soft and warm and heavenly, like someone truly supports _him_. 

"You silly, silly side," Janus whispers into his hair. "You deserve love, Pat. All the platonic love in the world. You're so important to all of us. To me. I'm so sorry if my actions have ever made you believe otherwise."

The itch in Patton's throat reaches overwhelming proportions and with real regret, he has to shove himself away a little from Janus, bending over double with the force of his cough. It's never been this bad and panic flares, bright and sharp at the edges, as he continues coughing, harsh, broken coughs that tear at his lungs.

"It's okay," he can vaguely hear Janus, feel the comfort of his words settle around him like a soothing blanket. "Cough it out, Patton. It will be okay. I promise."

With a final, wrenching _heave_ , something comes up his throat, filling his mouth, and ultimately ending up splattered across the carpet in front of them. Patton vaguely recognizes it as a yellow rose.

"Interesting," Janus murmurs. "Well, one down. Four to go!"

"I couldn't-" Patton protests weakly. He feels like he's run a marathon with a tank strapped to his back. Janus smiles sadly, but his grip is implacable as he draws Patton forward.

"Patton," he says. "You need to. You- I promise you, you can't live like this forever."

"I've lived like this since the wedding," Patton argues, stopping so he can pick up the bloodstained rose. Its thorns prick his fingers and he has to turn and set it on his desk with a wince.

"And that's far too much time already!" Janus explodes. He sighs, running a gloved hand through his hair. "Patton, you are laboring under a misunderstanding. Your hanahaki proves it. You think that we don't care about you, but we _do_. You obviously believe _me_. Why not give the others a chance, as well?"

"Because-" Patton draws a deep breath, coughing a little at the end of it. 'Because I'm afraid," he admits in a shamed mumble. Janus's face softens.

"I know," he says gently. "It- it feels terrifying because what if you're just making a fool out of yourself, what if you're wrong, what if all it's going to do is make things worse. But I promise you-" Janus pauses, reaching for Patton's hands again, heedless of the blood stains. "You are loved. You deserve love. And I'm going to help you ensure you _know_ it. Please let me?"

"....Okay," Patton shakily acquiesces, closing his eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

_And if I go out tonight, dress up my fears  
You think I'll look alright with these mascara tears? _

Patton takes a deep breath, or as deep as he can with the flowers still choking his lungs. Roman and Virgil are still in the kitchen, playfully splashing each other as they wash the dishes. Virgil looks up, expectant, as Janus tows Patton inside.

"What is it?" Roman asks, with a slight frown. Patton winces, drawing strength from the warm look Janus sends his way.

"Patton has something he'd like to say," Janus announces. Patton realizes that he's trembling like he's been caught in a stray hurricane and tries to straighten up.

"Pat?" Virgil questions softly.

"I have hanahaki disease," Patton blurts out. "But not- I'm not in love with anyone. Not like that." He swallows, and his throat aches. "I'm aromantic," he explains.

"It's platonic love," Janus adds. Patton could bless him for it, as understanding dawns on Roman's and Virgil's faces.

"Who is it for, Pat?" Virgil asks, his voice gentle. Patton presses his lips tightly together, before they can tremble.

"....Everyone," he admits, his voice a shame-filled mumble. Janus squeezes his hand. "But I coughed up Janus's flower already," he adds, making a face.

"Pat..." Virgil trails off. He looks stricken as he lets a soap-sodden plate slip from his grasp, floating in the soapy water. "Pop star," he tries again. "You know I love you, right?"

"Um..." Patton doesn't know what to say. If he agrees, Janus will almost certainly call it out as a lie. But he can't stand the heartbroken look in Virgil's eyes. "I-"

"You don't," Virgil breathes. "I know we've had our ups and downs, Pat, but I care _so much_ about you."

"As do I," Roman chimes in. "I- I quite enjoy our baking sparring. It is one of the highlights of my day." 

"He never shuts up about it," Virgil adds fondly, leaning against the broad chest of his boyfriend and smiling up at him.

"You do?" Patton squeaks. His throat tightens. "I- I thought you were just humoring me." He looks down, face flushed.

"Never," Roman insists. "I- I love you, padre."

To his ever-present shame, tears fill up his eyes and overflow, trickling down his cheeks. He wipes them away with an impatient hand, sniffling.

"Sorry," he says, his voice watery.

"Hey," Virgil says, coming up to Patton, one hand resting on his wrist. Janus's hand tightens around his. "You don't have to apologize, Pat. If anything, maybe _we_ should be apologizing to _you_."

"What?" Patton sputters, dumbfounded. Virgil smiles, a little sadly.

"We've made you feel so unloved and unappreciated, you developed _hanahaki disease_ ," Roman says, putting special emphasis on the last few words. "That's- that's a pretty big thing, Patton."

"It's not your fault," he argues, his voice still choked with tears.

"Well, it certainly isn't yours," Virgil points out. "I'm so sorry, Pat. You know that little plushie you gave me?"

"Yeah?" Patton says, confused by the non sequitur.

"I sleep with them every night," Virgil confesses, his cheeks reddening. "It- I don't know how it made you feel, but it meant a lot to me. Thank you."

This time, Patton nearly crumples to the ground, shoulders heaving as he coughs, flowers slipping and rubbing against each other in an excruciating dance. He coughs up one, then the other, stray flower petals gently fluttering to the ground next to the bloodstained proof that the others _do_ care about him. A carnation and a chrysanthemum, if Patton is remembering his flowers correctly.

"Now Remus and Logan," Janus says softly, when Patton's coughing has ceased for the time being. Patton turns panic-stricken eyes up at him.

"I can't," he objects. "They just got together, what if I-"

"It's better to get it all done at once," Janus says firmly. Patton's shoulders slump in defeat.

"We'll go with you," Roman says, decisive. "That way, you know you aren't alone!"

"Oh, you don't have to-" Patton starts to say, before Virgil interrupts him.

"We want to," Virgil says. "Is that okay, Pat?"

Silently, Patton nods.

The walk down to Remus's room seems to take a lifetime. Guilt clogs his throat, mixing with the remaining flower petals. _They're not gonna want to talk to_ you _,_ his mind whispers, heavy with scorn. _They have each other now. You'll just be in the way._

"Here we are," Janus says and lightly raps on the door with his knuckles. A few moments later, a disheveled Logan opens the door, Remus clinging to his side.

"Yes?" Logan asks, his eyes bright with curiosity. "Is something wrong?"

"Patton has something to tell you," Janus says. "He's already told the rest of us."

"What is it, Patton?" Logan questions. Remus tilts his head to one side, impossibly far.

"I have hanahaki disease, too," he blurts out again. "But not- it's not romantic, it's platonic love? I'm aromantic."

"For who?" Remus asks. Patton swallows, his throat throbbing.

"Everyone," he admits. "I'm- I'm sorry, I should just go-" He turns, blundering forward, only to be stopped by Roman's implacable hand.

"Stay," Virgil softly implores.

"Patton, I had no idea," Logan says. He sounds stunned. Patton hangs his head, miserable.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles. "I didn't- You don't have to-"

"Have to what?" Remus asks. "Like you? Care about you?"

"Well, yeah," Patton says, his throat tight. Remus snorts.

"Well, too bad," Remus says. "Because I know I do. And I doubt Lo feels any different."

"Lo?" Roman asks, his eyebrows raising. Logan flushes a brilliant red.

"You- what?" Patton asks, stunned. "But I- you should _hate_ me, I-"

"Nah," Remus says, shaking his head. "I don't hate you. How could I?"

"I-" Patton stammers. He feels like he's in the twilight zone. Remus takes pity on him, coming forward and offering a hug. Patton gladly accepts, feeling the near-burning warmth of Remus's arms coming round him.

"Of course I don't hate you," Remus whispers in Patton's ear. "You're not so bad, pop rocks. You've been really nice to Jan Jan and me lately. You've-"

"But I should have been nice to you all the time," Patton points out. "And I-"

"And you weren't, big deal," Remus says, with a shrug. "Sure, it would have been nice. But that doesn't mean I don't care about you _now_."

"As do I," Logan says, approaching them and resting one hand on Patton's back. He rubs soothing circles into the middle of Patton's back, surprising him into relaxing a little. "I notice all the little things you do for me, you know. I should say it more often, but I do appreciate them. And you. I appreciate _you_ , Patton."

"But I-" The protest is weak and barely there.

"No but's," Remus says. "Except the juicy kind." He waggles his eyebrows, startling a wispy laugh free. "I care about you and there's nothing you can do about it, so there."

_I'll never get used to this_ , Patton thinks dimly as he doubles over with the intensity of his cough, blood speckling his crumpled hand. Remus and Janus hold him up, keeping him in place, as the final two flowers dislodge themselves. It _hurts_ , even more than the others, and involuntary tears spring to his eyes. 

"It will be over soon," Remus whispers in his ear. "Trust me."

He coughs one last time and spits up two fully formed flowers on the carpet. One is dark blue, and the other green.

"Iris and zinnia," Logan murmurs. "How pretty."

"Huh," Patton says, staring down at the flowers. Janus stoops down and carefully plucks them free of the carpet. 

"They can go with the rest," he explains. 

"I'd like that," Patton mumbles. "I'm- I'm sorry I didn't say anything-"

"Don't worry about it, pop star," Virgil says, bumping his shoulder affectionately. "Wanna have a movie night?" He swallows and nods, his throat clear for the first time in ages, and fresh tears spill down his cheeks.

_I never have to do this again,_ Patton thinks, and smiles, as the others crowd around him, murmuring about the best movie to watch.

"It's Patton's choice!" Roman declares, turning to him. "What say you, padre?"

"Anything," Patton says honestly. "As long as we're all together, I don't care."


End file.
